“Can I go next time?”
“No.”
“I’ll behave. I promise.”
“Will you shave your beard?”
John gasped. “No.” His eyes widened in horror, as if Al were wearing acid-washed jeans with black socks and sandals.
“Then no.”
“You are a cruel, cruel man.”
• CHAPTER ELEVEN •
Al fidgeted, trying to shift the pen in his back pocket. It poked at him in an unseemly manner, a little like his conscience. He didn’t know Lou well, at least not well enough to share his secret, but he still felt guilty hiding anything from her. Oh, there—that felt better.
Al and Lou shared a table at The Good Land, a restaurant located in Walker’s Point, not far from the lakefront. The restaurant exceeded all his expectations. The service staff attended to their needs without intruding, the wine list would impress the pickiest oenophile, and the menu explored the very best of Wisconsin cuisine in small-batch cheeses, local vegetables, and handmade sausages.
Rather than mask any flaws, the dining room lighting enhanced the beautiful woodwork, muted natural colors, and crisp white linens. Local artists had painted landscapes of Milwaukee that hung on the walls, providing a pictorial history of the area’s development, which a note on the menu explained. Inexplicably, he saw stills from the movie Wayne’s World decorating the restroom. It must be a private joke with the owner.
Lou looked beautiful in her brightly colored dress, kind of an orangey-pink—John would know the color. Her hair draped past her shoulders, dancing against her bare skin each time she moved. His imagination kept distracting him from their conversation, picturing his lips in place of her tresses. It was a short path from shoulders to neck to lips.
“You okay? You’re kind of wiggly,” Lou said.
“Just settling in. I think we’ll be here a while.” Al tried not to choke out the words.
“I hope so. I’ve been dying to eat here.”
While the waiter filled her wineglass, Lou said, “Could you tell Chef Tom I’d like a grilled cheese without cheese?”
The waiter’s baffled expression matched Al’s.
“Trust me. Just tell him. Feel free to mention how crazy I seem.”
“Okay,” the waiter said, and rushed toward the kitchen doors, eager to see Chef’s reaction.
“What are you doing?” Al looked around to see whether anyone had overheard her request.
“I went to school with Chef Tom ages ago. We worked together before moving on to grown-up jobs. At one restaurant, I washed dishes and he worked the line, and a customer actually ordered that. Grilled cheese with no cheese! It’s been a joke ever since.”
“Lou!” A booming voice rang over the dining room’s quiet bustle. A man roughly the size of a Packers lineman rushed like a freight train across the restaurant with arms wide. Lou hopped out of her chair into those arms.
“How ya doing, kid? I never thought I’d see you here. I didn’t think Devlin would allow it.” He looked around, searching for the odious man, perhaps to toss him out. Al approved.
“Devlin and I broke up a while ago. I’m here with my good friend Al.” Lou gestured toward Al, who felt a little uncomfortable under the large man’s firm gaze. Lou sat back down.
“At least he has good taste in restaurants. But what took you so long? It’s been months.”
“Work’s been a little time consuming. I’m sure you understand.”
“I heard. You’ll be fine. You always are. Let me know if I can help.” Chef Tom squeezed her elbow reassuringly.
“Thanks, Tom.”
“So, what did you order? Not that it matters, ’cause I’m making you something special.”
“We’re still trying to decide. You don’t make it easy.”
Tom laughed loud enough that the customers who weren’t already staring now turned to look.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll send out the perfect meal with the best the kitchen has today. No plain old meal for you. I’ll even make it myself.”
“Don’t do that. That’s not why we came here.”
“Bullshit. What’s the point of knowing the chef if you don’t let him show off for you?”
“Don’t overdo it, then.”
“Me? Overdo? Of course not.” Chef Tom gave a smile that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous and returned to his kitchen.
“I like him,” was all Al said, nodding his head toward the swinging kitchen door.
• • • • •
“Bloody hell, I can’t remember when I’ve eaten that much food.” Al wiggled, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his waistband. “Chef Tom has a gift. The way he took simple ingredients like cheddar and mushrooms and made them exciting. Or turning the duck egg and whitefish into a familiar and comforting dish. Thank God we’re walking to Summerfest. Even the wine paired brilliantly. I didn’t know Milwaukee had restaurants like that.”
Al patted his back pocket, checking on his notes. Writing on his leg in the loo had been trickier than expected, and his notes resembled a toddler’s scribbles. He kept thinking of details he didn’t want to forget. The Good Land ranked as one of the best restaurants he’d ever dined at. Anywhere. His palate still reeled from the decadent braised venison.
“I knew you liked food, but I didn’t realize you were so into it.”
“My mum’s culinary knowledge began and ended with the side of a box, so I appreciate good food after a childhood of deprivation.” The half-truth didn’t lie easy on his tongue. Al had acquired the cooking duties as soon as he could see the countertop, much to his father’s delight. As Al experienced more cuisines with his friends’ families, his cooking repertoire expanded. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t get into his past with Lou—not tonight. With so many little omissions building up, it was no wonder a new one could slide out so easily.
“Ha! My family was the opposite. My grandma could teach Chef Tom a thing or two about cooking.” Lou adjusted her bag so it crossed her body. “I’ll have to make you dinner sometime.”
“I would love that.” Al hoped she could hear the truth in those words, at least.
• • • • •
Lou looked around as they walked. She hadn’t been in this part of town recently. Several warehouses lined the streets, mingling with bars and boutiques. Over the past decade, Walker’s Point and the Third Ward, south of downtown, had evolved as hot spots in the city. Trendy shops, packed bars, bustling restaurants, and pricey riverfront condos brought new life to one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city. Intermingled with the new and updated stood older buildings, still serving the city’s industrial backbone.
A soft breeze ruffled Lou’s coral summer dress, and her purse’s long strap crossed her upper body—ideal for walking. Stars surely sparkled beyond the orange night glow the city emitted—Lou just couldn’t see them. The moon still hid beyond the horizon but should rise before midnight. The air lacked summer’s usual humidity and promised perfection for the rest of the evening. Being used to the heat in the kitchen, she enjoyed feeling the air whisper over her skin, caressing the goose pimples already there. She didn’t want to think about the real reason her skin reacted to every waft of air in the small distance between her and Al. The space between them seemed ten degrees warmer than the air.
This was their fourth outing. If they were dating, she’d be planning to ask him back to her apartment. But they weren’t, Lou reminded herself, and she wouldn’t. She frowned, acknowledged the disappointment, and added it to the other disappointments of the past few months.
Lou peered at Al as they walked past Alterra, a local coffee roaster. She closed her eyes to inhale the rich smell of coffee—a nice break from the usual city smells of exhaust, asphalt, and occasional waft of garbage. Devlin had called earlier today, this time at the restaurant. She let voice mail answer it, but her heart still wrenched when she listened to his message.